


Have Not Saints Lips?

by sorry_guys



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Demon!Shane, I'm really unhappy with the ending of this lol but I didn't know how else to end it, M/M, Medieval AU, One-Shot, monk!ryan, satan!shane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27671632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorry_guys/pseuds/sorry_guys
Summary: I should be afraid, Ryan thought, but he felt no fear of the man beside him. Maybe it was just the wine, but Ryan inexplicably felt that Shane wouldn’t hurt him.“What are you?” he asked cautiously, and Shane smiled at him over the rim of his goblet.“At the moment? Not drunk enough."
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 2
Kudos: 64





	Have Not Saints Lips?

**Author's Note:**

> This is a burner account for posting RPF ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> This is actually going to (eventually!) be a flashback scene in a much longer story I'm working on, where (in short) Shane is Lucifer and he and Ryan team up to stop Armageddon (yes, I do watch Good Omens, why do you ask? lol) but I'm too impatient and wanted to publish this as a stand-alone. So if you like demon!Shane, stay tuned for that!!

Somewhere in Europe, c. 1200 CE

Ryan was awoken from his slumber by a loud, rhythmic banging sound. He glanced out of the window of his chambers and found the sky pitch black and storming. Concluding it had just been thunder, Ryan turned over under his thin blanket and tried to go back to sleep.

The banging came again, accompanied by a muffled shout. Definitely not thunder, then.

“What in God’s name?” Ryan muttered sleepily as he dragged himself out of bed. Lighting a candle, he left his chambers and went to investigate. Who on earth could be visiting at this hour? In the pouring rain, no less!

The pounding noise came again as Ryan hurried down the stone corridor towards the front entrance. He flung the door open and a gust of icy wind hit his face as he came face-to-chest with a very, very tall man. 

“Oh, finally!” the stranger exclaimed, and hurriedly strode past Ryan into the shelter of the entryway as if he owned the place. He had to duck to avoid hitting his head on the door frame.

“I’ve been waiting out there for an eternity!” he cried as he removed his long, hooded cloak and tossed it at Ryan, who barely managed to catch it before it hit the stone floor. Even while soaking wet, Ryan could tell it was made of very luxurious materials, and Ryan noticed the glint of several gold rings adorning the man’s fingers. 

Running a hand through his wet hair, the stranger looked around the entryway with disinterest.

“So, where’s the food around here?” he asked when his eyes alighted once again on Ryan, who simply stood there, holding the man’s sopping wet cloak, trying to get his sleep-addled brain to catch up to what was happening.

“Um, the kitchens—” Ryan began.

“Excellent, lead the way then,” the man interrupted impatiently.

Ryan dumbly shuffled off down the corridor, the tall stranger following.

“I’ve been riding out in that storm for hours, I’m absolutely starving!” the stranger complained from behind him.

“I hope you have plenty of wine, because I could certainly use something to take the edge off,” the man continued as they entered the kitchens.

“Sir,” Ryan said with an edge of annoyance as he draped the haughty man’s cloak over a bench to dry, “you do realize this is a monastery, not an inn?”

“Oh, is it?” the man frowned in confusion as he sat down at the table.

“Oh well, this will have to do. There’s no way I’m going back out in this weather.”

He paused, giving Ryan an appraising look.

“But hey, if you’re a monk, how come you don’t have that funny bald spot?” he asked, waggling his fingers at Ryan’s head.

Ryan ran a hand over his thick hair self-consciously.

“I guess you could say I’m a… a monk-in-training,” he answered hesitantly, and turned away to pour some wine for the visitor.

“Ah, so you haven’t yet sworn yourself to a life of monotonous celibacy? You should escape while you still can,” the man mocked.

Ryan baulked. His annoyance at this entitled intruder welled up inside of him, and he set down the goblet he was holding with just a little more force than strictly necessary, causing its dark red contents to slosh onto the wooden tabletop.

“And this is how you speak to a religious man? It is an honor and a privilege to commit myself to God!” he exclaimed, glaring icily at the other man.

“And if you don’t respect that then… then you can bloody well spend the night outside!”

The stranger raised his eyebrows at Ryan’s outburst, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

“Well, well, you do have some spirit in you after all,” he said, leveling a calculating stare at the monk-in-training.

“What is your name?”

“Ryan,” he replied coldly, crossing his arms over his chest, “what’s yours?”

“You can call me… Shane,” the visitor said hesitantly.

Ryan narrowed his eyes.

“Why does it sound suspiciously like you just made that up?”

The stranger chuckled.

“There’s too much power in names where I come from, Ryan. One can never be too careful.”

“And where do you come from, exactly?”

“Why don’t you get yourself some wine as well, and sit with me? We can pass a few hours exchanging our life’s stories. I’d certainly love to hear what led a handsome fellow like you to join the church.”

Ryan was conflicted. He didn’t like this Shane character, not at all, but it wasn’t often that visitors passed through this way, and even more rare was someone asking to speak with  _ him _ , lowly Ryan, the monk-in-training. Despite his enthusiastic defense of monastic life, it did get tiresomely boring at times.  _ There’s nothing wrong with some harmless conversation _ , Ryan thought, and wordlessly poured himself a goblet of wine.

Some time and several drinks later, Shane was amusing Ryan with stories about his travels across the continents when a particularly strong gust of wind blew the kitchen window open, and the two men were plunged into total darkness as all the candles went out at once.

Ryan let out a manly shriek and reached blindly for his companion, clutching desperately at his arm.

Shane laughed.

“Are you afraid of the dark?” he asked, not too kindly, but he didn’t pull his wrist out of Ryan’s vice-like grip.

“Aren’t you?” Ryan retorted, his voice only shaking slightly.

“I was born in the darkness,” Shane said dramatically, and Ryan let out a nervous giggle, “but if it makes you uncomfortable, then…” 

Suddenly the candles re-ignited and the room was aglow once more, even brighter than before. Ryan looked around in awe at the room, nearly as bright as in daylight, though the darkness outside the windows persisted.

“How are you doing that?” Ryan whispered.

Shane shrugged.

“I’m good with light,” he said, and took a sip of wine.

_ I should be afraid _ , Ryan thought, but he felt no fear of the man beside him. Maybe it was just the alcohol, but Ryan inexplicably felt that Shane wouldn’t hurt him.

“What are you?” he asked cautiously, and Shane smiled at him over the rim of his goblet.

“At the moment? Not drunk enough. Now, are you going to let go of my arm?”

Ryan looked down, and realized his fingers were still wrapped around Shane’s wrist.

“Sorry,” he muttered as he pulled his hand back, an unaccountable blush rising in his cheeks.

Shane gave him a long, searching look, and then smirked, and the monk-in-training felt something dangerous stir within him at the sight.

“I get the urge to do something,” Ryan said quietly, looking down into the depths of his goblet as though help would emerge from it, “something terrible.”

“You know,” Shane said, setting down his goblet, “you should never resist an impulse, Ryan.”

Suddenly there were long fingers under Ryan’s chin, gently tilting his head back up until he was face-to-face with Shane. There was a strange twinkle in the other man’s eye.

“ _ Especially _ if it’s terrible.”

Between the wine and the other man’s words, Ryan felt powerless. Like a man possessed, Ryan felt his body move of its own accord, and then their lips were touching. The kiss sent a bolt of lightning through Ryan’s body, and suddenly he understood the temptation of the carnal sins in a way he never had before.

Shane smiled into the kiss, and gently coaxed Ryan’s lips apart with his own. Shane’s mouth was sweeter than wine and the monk-in-training, overcome with need, moved closer until he was pressed chest-to-chest with the mysterious stranger, their bodies twisted awkwardly on the wooden bench. 

Shane pulled away, and Ryan, eyes still closed, chased blindly after the other man’s mouth. Shane chuckled.

“Ryan,” he said softly, “do you perhaps want to do this… not in the kitchen?”

Ryan opened his eyes, remembering their surroundings with a jolt.

“I have a room,” he said, struggling to think through the fog of lust in his mind, “with a bed.”

“How decadent,” Shane said with a smirk, and stood.

Hand in hand, the two of them weaved their way through the halls of the monastery.

“Lord, forgive me for what I’m about to do,” Ryan muttered as he led Shane into his room.

“Believe me,” Shane said wryly, tugging the shorter man towards the bed, “He isn’t paying attention.”

The next morning, Ryan was awoken from his slumber by a loud, rhythmic banging sound accompanied by muffled shouts. 

“Again?” he grumbled.

He glanced out of the window of his chambers and found the sky overcast with that particular shade of grey that meant the sun had just risen beyond the fog.

Then he realized there was someone else in his bed, their arm thrown lazily over his waist, and the events of the night previous came rushing in.

Ryan gasped, and tried to wriggle out of Shane’s arms, but the other man tightened his hold around Ryan’s middle, and nuzzled his face into the smaller man’s hair.

“Five more minutes,” the other man muttered, and the monk let out a laugh tinged with panic.

“Let go, Shane,” he whispered, “before someone finds us!”

The loud banging returned, and he could just barely make out a voice shouting, “open the door!”

Shane sighed, his breath ghosting over the back of Ryan’s neck.

“They’ve already found me,” he said quietly, and finally withdrew his arm, allowing Ryan to clamber out of bed.

“I knew this couldn’t last, yet somehow I’m still disappointed,” Shane said, tossing the covers off his body and sitting up.

“What do you mean?” Ryan asked nervously as he hurriedly pulled his clothes on.

The sound of footsteps outside made Ryan freeze in fear, but whoever it was ran straight past his chambers and continued down the hall towards the front door.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Ryan gathered Shane’s clothes from where they were strewn across the floor.

“Get dressed, before someone comes in and finds you stark naked in my room, for Christ’s sake,” he said, shoving the bundle into Shane’s arms.

Shane raised his eyebrows at the monk’s tone, but complied wordlessly. When the two men were fully dressed, Ryan relaxed somewhat, but his relief was short lived.

The door to Ryan’s chambers was thrown open with a bang, and a small army of the king’s men descended on Shane. Ryan cried out in alarm as the men grasped at Shane’s arms, shoving them roughly behind the man’s back.

“You!” barked one of the other men, wheeling on Ryan.

“You are hereby charged with harboring a witch, and are thereby sentenced to die alongside him!”

Ryan’s chest constricted in fear, but before he could protest, Shane spoke up.

“He had no idea who I was, you fleabag,” he said with an eye roll, not even wincing as the knights unceremoniously dragged him towards the door.

“He’s just a dumb monk, it’s in his nature to open the door to people he shouldn’t.”

Ryan looked at his lover, trying to catch his eye, but Shane wouldn’t look at him. The knights frog-marched Shane out the door, and the monk’s heart broke, just a little.

“Sir, please,” someone shouted from the hall, and Ryan recognized the voice of the abbot.

“He has been here for months and has never been anything but obedient and God-fearing,” the abbot pleaded, stumbling into the room.

“Uh, maybe we shouldn’t burn a monk at the stake,” said one of the remaining knights, “that wouldn’t be a very good look.”

Their leader looked thoughtfully at Ryan, weighing the man’s life in his hands as if it was of no particular consequence.

“Yeah, alright,” he said finally, and Ryan took a shaky breath as the last of the knights filed out of his chambers.

Remembering why the knights were here in the first place, Ryan ran out of his room and out the front door just in time to watch the knights secure Shane to a wooden pole atop a pile of firewood. Ryan blanched. They were going to burn him alive.

The knights clambered away as their leader came forward with a torch.

“I’ve got you now, witch!” he cried.

“You will finally burn for your crimes against nature!”

“Oh no,” Shane said sarcastically, “fire? God forbid.”

“Shut up!” the knight shouted, and threw the flaming torch onto the pire.

“Ohhh, it burns!” Shane wailed, and Ryan felt like he was going to be sick as he watched the flames rise towards Shane’s feet.

“Oh god, it hurts so much!” 

Ryan was about to turn away and plug his ears against the sounds of his lover’s suffering, unable to bear it when, with a smile and a wink in Ryan’s direction, Shane yelled “SIKE!” and disappeared into thin air.

Silence hung in the air for a moment as everyone processed that the pire was indeed unexpectedly, unexplainably, and inexplicably empty.

The leader of the knights fell to his knees with a scream of rage as the men under his command looked at each other in disbelief. Ryan clamped his hands over his mouth, pretending to be shocked and dismayed. But behind his fingers, he was smiling from ear to ear.

Ryan the monk-in-training was forever changed by that fateful night. He left the monastery, choosing instead to become a trader, exploring the world and experiencing all the far-flung places he’d heard about in the stories of one mysterious traveler called Shane. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Just in case some people aren't as weirdly into Satan as I am, Shane does the trick with the candles because Lucifer means "Light-bringer" in Latin!  
> This ending was just hastily made up for the sake of posting this as a one-shot; in the longer story I'm working on, it ends differently!


End file.
